Thank You, McTravel Agent
by Malvolia
Summary: Tony and Ziva and a trip to Paris. How did they get that single room, anyway, and are they as bad at spending time together as McGee told Director Vance? Standalone companion fic to chapter 35 of "Still and Always, McGee."


"Good morning, Tony," Ziva greeted him, reaching the door of the NCIS building at the same time as he did. She opened the door for herself, but he caught it at the top corner and held it.

"Morning, Probalicious," he said, and she quirked an eyebrow. "Ziva."

"Why are you in such a good mood?"

"I didn't sleep a wink last night." Both Ziva's eyebrows shot up, to relax as he continued. "Gibbs called me around 11:00."

"Ah. That explains the exuberant voicemail I retrieved after I turned my phone on this morning." She suppressed a smile at the memory. _"Ziva! Are you there? Pick up! Wait, never mind, just..._big_ news. You know what, if you get this, don't call me back, I want to tell you in person. Ohhh-ho-ho man...."_

"You and I are leaving today to go pick up a witness."

"That is it? That is your excitement?" She jabbed at the elevator button and stood back.

Tony bounced on the balls of his feet. "Guess where the witness is?"

"I do not want to guess." The doors slid open and she entered, Tony close on her heels.

"Okay, then, I'll just tell you." He paused until she turned to look at him, then grinned broadly. "Paris."

She frowned and played clueless. "Paris, Kentucky?"

"What?" he exclaimed incredulously, and she burst into laughter. "You are a cruel woman."

"I am happy for you. You will enjoy Paris."

"You won't?"

"I have been there before," she said, exiting the elevator on their floor. "Many times. It will not be new for me."

"I'll be there," said Tony, settling into his chair. "That'll be new."

Ziva didn't look up from putting her things into her desk drawer, but she shook her head in acknowledgment of his statement.

"Oh, man," he said. "I can't wait to wake up to the Eiffel Tower outside my window."

She snorted. "That is highly unlikely. Paris is an expensive city and I doubt the department would waste resources in that manner."

"There's gotta be a way around that," said Tony. He rocked back and forth thoughtfully, then slowed to a stop. "The department pays for two rooms, right?"

"That is correct, but I don't see how...."

Tony waved her into silence as the elevator doors opened again. "Morning, McGee," he said cheerfully.

"Morning, Tony," said McGee. "You're awfully chipper this morning."

"And you still use words like 'chipper,' McGee, which is why I love ya."

McGee squinted suspiciously at his partner.

"I'm going to Paris!" Tony announced, throwing his arms out wide. Ziva coughed, and Tony rolled his eyes. "Well. Not _just_ me."

McGee looked from Tony to Ziva and back again. "You two? Paris?" He surveyed the bullpen. "Is this the Twilight Zone?"

"They're picking up a witness, not going on vacation," said Gibbs as he rounded the corner with his coffee.

"Ahhhh," said McGee. "The world makes sense again."

"Make some reservations," Gibbs added. "I've got a meeting in two minutes and I want them done by the time I am."

"When will you..." McGee started to ask, but Gibbs had already disappeared. McGee grimaced. "Is it me, or does he think I'm the only one who can do that?"

"The price of being an internet maven, my young Timothy," said Tony in his best impression of Ducky.

"Like you don't know your way around a computer," McGee sniffed.

"Not around all your fabulous price-shopping sites, I don't." Tony sighed contentedly. "Paris. I can't wait. Get us somewhere cool, McGee. Something where when I wake up and look out my window I get a view of something famous, like...Johnny Depp."

"I don't think that's possible."

"The restaurant where they filmed _Ratatouille_?"

McGee rolled his eyes.

"Okay, the Eiffel Tower then. Ohhh, man. This'll be the greatest business trip ever."

"Eiffel Tower views aren't in the budget," said McGee.

Tony's face fell. "Don't toy with me, McDreamCrusher."

"Sorry," shrugged McGee, and kept typing.

Tony cast a petitioning glance across the bullpen at Ziva.

"I have tried to explain to him," she said, addressing McGee, "that we simply cannot afford _two _rooms in Paris with a good view of the Eiffel Tower."

The typing stopped. "Two rooms," McGee mused aloud. "Huh."

" 'Huh'? What, 'huh'?" urged Tony.

"Well," began McGee casually, "you couldn't get _two_, but if we pooled the funds, you could probably get _one_."

Tony mouthed the word "Genius" over to Ziva, who nodded in acceptance of the label, then quickly turned his attention back to McGee. "I don't know," he said. "Sharing a room? Sounds like a Gibbs rulebook violation."

"I won't tell if you won't."

Tony crossed his heart solemnly and held up his right hand, three fingers raised and the thumb touching the little finger. "Scout's honor."

A quick round of tapping at the keyboard and McGee announced, "I think I've found it. Would either of you mind sleeping on a couch?"

"I would sleep on a bed of nails for a good view," said Tony.

Ziva huffed. "I will be the one who ends up on the couch. And no, I do not mind."

McGee hit a key with a flourish. "Enjoy Paris."

* * *

A little over twenty hours later, Tony and Ziva stepped into the Charles de Gaulle Airport. Tony stretched and groaned loudly. "I should have made this trip ten years ago."

"It was not that bad," Ziva said, but she received only a withering look in response. "Well, then, perhaps you need a physical therapist as well, yes?"

He muttered something barely audible but unpleasant-sounding. "My back...."

"I know, I know," said Ziva. "Your back is killing you. I have been listening to you complain about it for the past seven hours."

"Six," said Tony. "Maximum."

"I told you to walk about the cabin," Ziva pointed out.

"And maybe I would have," he said, "if I hadn't spent more than half the trip with somebody sprawling into my space."

"I am used to traveling," she said. "If it bothered you so much, you should have woken me up."

He shrugged and reached for her bag. "You know the way out of here, Miss World Traveler?"

* * *

Tony wanted to find their hotel via subway and walking. Ziva flatly refused to spend that much time underground, pressed up against strangers who had already been exerting themselves all day. They took a cab.

"Oh, wow," Tony said, laughing in excitement as he took in the scenery through the windows. "Ziva, this was your best idea since you suggested we share a room."

"Since _I_ suggested...?"

"We're actually here," he said. "The city _l'amour_."

Ziva winced. "Please let me be the one to speak the local language."

"_Oui, oui, mon cher madmoiselle_. Anytime you want. Be careful, though, I'm giddy enough to pull a Gomez Addams on you if you do."

"A Gomez...."

"This is terrific. What should we go see first?"

"I am not thinking past dinner and a hot shower." Tony opened his mouth and she cut him off with a warning look. He settled for a grin.

"You know me too well."

"With that, I can agree."

They made a turn and Tony yelped with delight as the Eiffel Tower rose into their field of vision. In the next few minutes before they reached their hotel, Ziva had to endure a slew of movie references. But Tony's eyes were shining enough to make up for it.

They checked in and lugged their bags up three flights of stairs and down a narrow hallway. When the door swung open, Tony yelped again.

"McTravel Agent came through in spades," he said, dropping his bag and making a beeline for the full-length window and its magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower.

When Ziva got out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, he was still standing at the window in awe. She sat on the couch and started to comb her wet hair.

"Tell me all this doesn't..." Tony stopped as he turned and saw her. "...get to you," he finished.

"No matter how many times you see it," she acknowledged, "it is still beautiful."

"Yes, she is," he agreed. "The city, I mean. I bet she is."

* * *

Tony barely made it through dinner. Ziva had to kick him under the table to keep him awake, although she probably didn't have to kick him as hard as she did. Afterwards, they walked to the Eiffel Tower and Ziva let herself be dragged into the line.

"Tomorrow I'm gonna rent one of those motorcycle scooter things and take it all over the city. Wanna come?"

"We have to pick someone up tomorrow morning, remember?"

"I'll wake up early."

"You are barely awake now."

"I can sleep when we get back to D.C. How many times will I get an all-expense paid trip to Paris?"

"This is not a vacation, this is business."

"And we're not friends, we're coworkers. But tonight...."

"What?"

"It feels like a vacation, too."

They waited in silence as the line grew shorter. Ziva stole a few glances at her partner to catch him taking in the experience. Several times she caught him taking her in instead.

They took the elevator to the third viewing platform, the highest one on the tower. When they exited, Tony's camera was out in an instant, snapping away at the views of the miniature city laid out below them. Ziva leaned on the railing and watched the boats on the Seine. As the sun dropped lower on the horizon, she pulled her coat closer. She felt warmth next to her, and an arm came across her shoulders.

"You should have told me you were cold."

"I am not cold enough to complain."

"You could be dying of exposure before you'd complain."

"I am hardly dying of exposure."

"I know. I was just using hyperbole to make a point."

They stood looking out as the lights of the Tower and of Paris blinked on. He hadn't moved his arm.

"It is getting late and we have a job to do tomorrow," she said finally. "We should return to our room." Catching the choice of words too late to stop them from coming, she fought back the heat rising to her face and was thankful for the darkness.

Contrary to expectation, Tony made no jokes. All he said was, "As you wish."

* * *

"Dibs on the couch," Tony said as soon as the door swung open.

Ziva snorted. McGee had been optimistic about the size of that item of furniture. The couch wasn't long enough for her to stretch out on, let alone Tony.

"That is not an option." He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "I do not want to hear you complaining for the next week about the state of your back."

"I can keep quiet," he said, and she laughed incredulously. His voice dropped. "What, you think I tell you everything?"

She avoided eye contact. "Do you prefer the right or the left?" she asked as she pulled a pair of pajamas out of her bag and headed into the bathroom.

"Are we sharing?" he countered.

"If you keep your hands to yourself."

"I can't make any promises for when I'm unconscious," he said casually. "But that shouldn't be a problem if you still snore as much as you did the last time we shared a room."

Ziva hurled a wet washcloth at him.

"Okay, okay, no mention of the snoring. I'll take the left."

Silence fell. Ziva assumed it was because Tony had started his own nighttime preparations, but when she exited the bathroom she saw that he had apparently completed them as well. He was stretched out on the left side of the bed, covers pulled halfway up over his chest, just revealing the NCIS logo on his t-shirt. She switched off the lights and smirked as the sound of snoring reached her ears.

"Good night, Tony," she whispered, crawling into bed and patting his shoulder softly.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, her hand was still there. He reached his own hand over to cover it. "Good night, Ziva."

* * *

She woke to the sound of his singing in the shower—an atrocious rendition of _La Vie En Rose—_feeling surprisingly refreshed. She walked to the window and threw back the curtains. Despite having seen Paris many times before, somehow this morning it seemed fresh and new.

Perhaps, after all, she was up for a little sightseeing.


End file.
